Trip My Wire series
by syrai
Summary: When Faith Lehane meets Dean Winchester for the first time, she's hungry... Crossover SPNxBTVS
1. soldier through this

**Title:** SOLDIER THROUGH THIS

**Series:** Trip My Wire

**Author:** charmingsyrai

**Fandom**: Buffy the Vampire Slayer // Supernatural // eventually Tru Calling

**Characters:** Faith/Dean, (Sam)

**Prompt:** #042 no return

**Word Count:** about 1620

**Rating:** R (smutless, but still, just to be on the safe side)

**Summary:** When Faith meets Dean for the first time, she's hungry.

**Warnings:** character death

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Neither Faith nor Dean belongs to me, although if I'd very much love if they did. Same goes for the world they live in that I've mixed up from the fandoms mentioned above. Since I'm not getting any money out of this, you really don't want to sue me, oki?

**Author's Note:** Never written Supernatural before… so let's hope that when I get it going, I won't fuck Dean up completely. Btw, both the title of series and the fic was inspired my "Garbage" because dude, that band has some kick-ass lyrics.

This piece's the first scene in the Trip My Wire series (that will be written prompt by prompt for info50scenes at livejournal) that deals with Faith and Dean, surprise, surprise. That of course means that this particular storyline will be continued in the next prompt :)

Review and you shall receive :)

**SOLDIER THROUGH THIS**

When Faith meets Dean Winchester for the first time, she's hungry. Like she always is after slaying, although this time she hasn't really been doing any slaying, someone else got there before she did, so it might actually be the fact she hasn't eaten for a whole fucking day. Well, if you didn't count that one chocolate bar she'd got out of the motel's machine with a kick, the one that had tasted like shit, old and crispy in her mouth, then she hadn't. The vampire she's been hunting for days now has taken all her time and energy, and money too, which pisses her off, 'cause she's the slayer, the fucking slayer, and she's supposed to know how to handle these things. Supposed to be so much cleverer than those bastards, you know, and now she suddenly finds out that maybe, maybe she isn't. It looks like it, anyway.

And though she knows it's pointless, so fucking pointless, every once in a while she goes on thinking that maybe if B was still alive, she would handle it better. She'd do something differently, no doubt, and the bitch would've been taken down already.

But B's dead, been for some time now, and there's only so many times you can cheat death and well. She's pretty sure B's used all her get-out-jail-cards already. I mean, seriously, how many of those can one person get when it comes to dying?

So, when Faith meets Dean in the cemetery, around 4 in the morning, she's not only hungry, but tired and pissed off too, and a little disappointed for not being the one to find the vampire first, which is never a good combo when it's a tempered slayer in question. And Dean, then again, he's not really helping the situation at all, standing there with that other guy, talking shit when he should be fighting.

Just fighting.

But then, maybe they don't know how to fight this bitch, it's a lot stronger than these guys, that's given without saying, at least to her. But it's not that, 'cause something tells her, even before she knows she's facing unofficial demon slayers; that these two can put up a bitching fight with the monsters if they're given the chance and she likes that about them, about him.

These two, Dean and his brother as she later learns, they remind her of how things used to be, you know, with B. The way they fought together, side by side, and threw witty remarks at the fuckers, but later, a lot later, she learnt to keep her mouth shut and eyes on the prize. Locate a vamp, find a stake – borrow if necessary - poke the sucker and be done with it. Get the fuck away, you know.

But observing them curiously instead of making her move, that's her mistake, and she'll never forget it and he never lets her.

Fuck, with her past, she could've easily written a whole damn guidebook listing things you're not supposed to do while slaying, but it's not like she'd like to reminisce that shit anyway. If she had listed all her fucked up mistakes, she would've had a damn novel right there.

The female vamp, dressed like a cheap whore, lunges forward and grabs the guy Dean's with, his brother, and before she can react, before she can even think of taking a stand and kicking this bitch's face into her head, it's already over.

Now she steps up, runs to them from their left side screaming to get the vamp's attention, maybe that could save him, and a second later, the vamp is on the ground, snarling. But it's so quick, so much quicker than the lazy vamps Faith's met along the ride, and she's thinking this one has been trained, must be. The vampire, she's already looking back at the intruder, hissing, revealing her teeth. Her eyes are yellow, piercing in the darkness, her face lumpy, but though Faith knows she should think it's ugly, disgusting, she doesn't. One more thing she's never gonna tell him. Another secret between them, one of the many.

Faith would snort if she knew all this already.

But as it is, she doesn't know that yet, but later on, she will find there's gonna be many more lies. Nothing's easy with them, she's a private person, he's secretive, both demanding and needy, and sometimes they're just too similar like that.

She doesn't know how it happens, her getting lost in her thoughts, but then she remembers they're not alone anymore with the vampire, and Dean's no help, because he's on the ground, holding his brother's head, trying to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, to make it better, and she doesn't tell him it's probably useless. Faith's tough, but not heartless. He mumbles, don't you fucking die to me, again and again, and he cries and it's weird, 'cause Faith's usually not big on crying guys. She's always thought of them as pathetic losers.

But this one, this one isn't pathetic like that, but genuine and broken, needed to be fixed, and she knows how that feels. She was there, heard Wood tell her how it was fucking impossible for anyone to have a real relationship with her, not because she's the slayer, but 'cause she's too fucking selfish to be in a relationship and she sucker punched him, hard, just cause that asshole deserved it. She did her own math and figured there was more to it than that. Maybe in the end he realized he couldn't deal with a stronger woman, which be it known, was totally his bad and his loss.

The other vamps come out of blue from their left side and she'd like to stay and fight, it's what she was born to do, what makes her high, but if there's something B ever managed to teach her, it's the fact you gotta protect the civilians and he, no matter what he knows about vamps, he's still a civilian and she needs to get him out.

Now the same sluttish vampire tries to attack her, but it doesn't know it's the slayer she's up against. It annoys Faith, everyone should know what the slayers are, who they are, especially the vamps, but it's not like she'd have time to educate the little sucker right now. She kicks it, fast, hard into the face with the heel of her boot, breaking its nose, and she goes down again, squeaking, crying out in pain.

Faith wants to hurt her more, break her neck and hear it snap, but she forgets it, because there's Dean, and Dean's crying harder now, rocking his brother in his arms. He's not twitching in his arms anymore, actually, she's not sure if he did at all, and it makes it all so surreal.

One can't just be gone like that, without saying goodbye, but reality sucks, and if they'd have time, she'd tell Dean that.

She charges, grabs his arm and pulls him up and he fights, no, don't touch me, but he's no match to a slayer. No human is and sometimes she gets tired of it, tired of not having anyone to match her strength, not physically, not mentally.

Maybe she sees something in him, 'cause if it had been anyone else, she would've probably tried to kill the vamps or die trying and left him there, on his own. But now she's working her ass off to protect this guy, this stranger, and she tries to tell him they're in danger, that they've got go, now, before those fuckers come any closer. They're slowly approaching and she doesn't understand why, why aren't they attacking, but she figures that these vampires must be really stupid, and so she doesn't pay any attention to it. Faith pulls him up, forces him to walk, to run, towards the car she saw near the parking lot when she arrived.

She remembers thinking that was one smokin' hot car, but she didn't know whose it was. It wasn't that hard to figure it out, though, as there were only two people in the graveyard and no other cars to be seen. She's never been good in math, but even Faith can work with the simple equations.

And she runs dragging him along till he stops fighting, yelling to him, telling him to find the fucking keys, and he obeys, numb. He doesn't know she's the slayer, he's never heard of those being real, he thought they were a myth and so this is just a girl to her, some hot girl witnessing the worst moment of his life, someone that needs to be saved.

The way he couldn't save him.

She's hungry, but she's not thinking about it when she snatches the car keys and sits behind the wheel, not knowing no one else can drive his metallicar but Dean.

He doesn't say anything, though, and he's not crying anymore either, but hitting the glove box with his right arm, left hand against it, as if holding it still. She doesn't bother pointing out, though she is tempted 'cause it's the way she is, that the thing is probably going nowhere even if he did let go, since she's not sure he'd appreciate her sarcasm right now. He's hurting, she knows, she's been there herself, but when she thinks about it, it's probably worse for him, cause he cares so much.

She doesn't tell him to stop, stop hurting this fucking beautiful car, will ya, 'cause he'll be the one to pay the bills anyway and it's not her car though she'd like it to be, and she doesn't flinch, not even when his knuckles open and bleed – not that you could spot it, not under all the blood on his hands, on his clothes. It's his brother's and she didn't even notice it.

Hey, um, let's face it, she's seen worse. And now, so has he.

Faith may be hungry, but it's hard to compete. Dean, Dean's fucking lost his brother.


	2. people live, people die

**Title:** PEOPLE LIVE, PEOPLE DIE

**Series:** Trip My Wire

**Author**: syrai

**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer // Supernatural // eventually Tru Calling

**Characters:** Faith/Dean

**Prompt:** #015 stop

**Word Count:** about 2120

**Rating:** PG-13 (for the language, I'd suppose)

**Summary:** Faith knows that people born, people live and then, people die.

**Warnings:** none - just lots of F-words, like usually

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Faith or Dean or anything else the creators of BtVS and SPN has come up. Everything else is mine.

**Author's Note: **After this one, we'll get to the action and by that I don't mean just smut, ok? I swear there's a plot!

The second piece in the Trip My Wire series written for 50scenes at livejournal.

Please remember to review, oki? It'll make my day!

**PEOPLE LIVE, PEOPLE DIE**

When Dean meets Faith Lehane for the first time, his world has fallen apart in the worst possible manner, he's lost practically everything, including himself, and she is the only one there to glue the scattered pieces back together. Slowly, but surely, the old picture starts to reform itself, one piece by piece, in no obvious hurry and it works, she makes it work. Still, it is impossible, even for her, to find all the missing pieces, but for the most part, she does good and he never blames her, not for that one, anyway.

But when he meets her, he doesn't know what's going to happen.

He doesn't know she'll try to fix him like that. She doesn't seem the type to do such thing and really, he isn't the type to want her to, either. You know, maybe it's because all his life, it's always been him to take care of Dad and Sam and others and it's ok, it gives him something to do, a reason to exist.

He's on her unmade bed, blindly staring at the ceiling, still wearing those blood-stained clothes and contemplates on getting up, going back there, back to the graveyard, back to Sammy. The fuck was he thinking, leaving him there, with those sons of bitches. He left Sam there like he didn't mean anything to him and it hurt, hurt so much, just thinking about it.

He believes in heaven and hell, only because he's seen too much to ignore its existence, but whereas with his mother's death the thought comforted him, now it doesn't. If Sammy is up there somewhere, he had fucking better be watching him, listening to him, so that he can tell him what an ass he is for dying on him like that.

And someday, he'll tell Sam he is sorry.

Big brothers were supposed to protect their little bros, you know, keep them dry and clean, and now he realised, he'd never really protected Sam like he should've. God, if he could take back that one day, the day he went to fetch Sam after their father disappeared, he'd take it all back in a heartbeat, 'cause shit, what the hell had he been thinking anyway? Dad knew how to take care of himself, but fuck, this was Sammy, damnit, his baby brother, who always were more of a skinny nerd than a fighter like his brother and they'd all known it, even Dad, and that was what made Sam so special.

Sam had been happy with Jess, and Dean, he'd been jealous. Fuck yeah, he rarely admits it, but it's the truth, he's always been a little jealous, ok? Sam had chosen other kind of life, the kind his brother had never even dared to dream of, he'd chosen her and left his brother and dad, left their mission as if he didn't care about the fact their mother's killer was out there. And even though he'd forgiven him and understood, the jealousy didn't seem to subside. Now he'd never know.

And it doesn't matter, at all, that he knows Sam had seen nightmares of her death before that night, that it would've probably happened anyway, but shit, if he hadn't taken his brother away form her, maybe Sam could've stopped it somehow, just by being there.

Dean knows Faith's watching him, but only when he hears her jump down from the table where she'd land her ass a while ago after removing her red leather jacket. He raises his head to look at her, to see where she's going. He doesn't want to be alone and as weird as it is, her presence seems to keep him from completely losing it. He doesn't like it, he doesn't like needing anyone, relying on anyone else but himself.

She hasn't really said anything much to him to explain why she was there to begin with, in the middle of the night in a damned graveyard, and Dean hasn't asked - he doesn't care. Honestly, it's not like she and her super human strength would be his number one worry right now, you know, and he's pretty sure there's nothing in Dad's journal that would indicate her to be some evil demon. Plus, she's been kind of nice to him so far (although the experience with Meg should've taught him nice ladies aren't always that; nice, or what they seem) didn't say anything when he ran into the bathroom and emptied his breakfast and lunch and whatever he'd eaten, into the toilet. She only threw an unopened bottle of cold water at him (at his knee, to be exact, probably wanting to remind him he wasn't completely dead yet) while he sat there, back against the bathroom's wall with face buried into his hands and claimed he should drink something. If he didn't, he'd regret later.

What he wants to drink isn't water, but Dean doesn't say it. Instead, he reaches for the bottle and opens it, drinks, drinks because she's watching and he feels there's nothing else for him to do. Like he'd be a fucking kid being watched by his mother and that's just not right, cause she's no mother, but a hot female and even that can't make it better.

Sam always said, when Dad wasn't around, that if that didn't twitch his brother's cock and bring a mischievous smirk to meet his lips, then damn straight, things were really fucking bad.

His knee hurts now, he bets it's gonna have a new bruise tomorrow and he wonders whether she'll ever apologize for that one, not that it matters much.

But Faith never says she's sorry and he picks up that piece of info pretty damn fast. He's always been a fast learner, Dad always told him so, with a sad smile on his face, but then, his smiles were always sad, 'cept when looking at Sammy. Then there was a hint of hope and he knew, Dean always knew, Dad didn't really have that much hope left for the older son. He just never found out why, still haven't, but it's ok. Sam was his glimpse of hope, too, of better future, and now it's ruined and Dean can't stop thinking, that really, it's all his fault.

How could he ever tell Dad? How could he possibly tell the man his youngest son is dead?

And all the while he's lying there, she's comforting him by just her presence, which freaks him a little. It's not something he's used to.

But what he appreciates the most is the fact she hasn't, not once, said that it was going to be ok. That it would all be better soon and that the pain, the fucking pain slashing his internal organs would fade, give it some time. Because it wasn't, it fucking wasn't.

She walks to the bed and content with the thought she's not leaving, he drops his head again and sighs, wiping his face with his other hand as if to erase all the bad from his memories, but he can't do it.

She's leaning above the bed, hovering over him and looking down on him, arms folded, but his eyes are closed and he can't see her anymore. But he's aware of her body'scloseness and not in that kinky, sexual way, which actually feels new to him, new and weird.

Fait doesn't speak. Really, what could she possibly say now? Everything he needs to hear will make him angry at the moment, reach for her throat and squeeze, and though she knows she'd beat him into a bloody pile in no time, she doesn't want to go through with it. Cause she knows, for sure, that if he decides to attack her now, he won't give up, he has to take it out, and she'd have to protect herself. There's no power in the verse that would make her let him hurt her, no guy would never get to hurt her again and that's the one rule she's decided to stick with. Other than that, she's not good with rules, not with others' and not with her own.

At least he's not crying anymore, which is good, cause it creeps her out. Still, having him lie there, not doing or saying anything, it doesn't seem that much better, he could just as well be dead, you know, and so she's trying to figure out whether she should do something. Like go buy some booze and get them both really fucking drunk, 'cause hey, there's no way in hell she'll spend rest of the night watching him weep and throw up, weep and throw up and then, lie there on her bed like a fucking body with no life signs showing.

She can't be bothered to check his vital signs every fucking hour, is all.

And... because she knows what he's going through and she remembers, remembers what it was like when it had been her. Things could've been so different, if only someone, any one, had bothered to straighten up some cold hard facts for her.

People born, people live, people die.

There's blood all over the sheets, but she's not bothered, doesn't ask him to take his clothes off, not an ideal moment for that kind of shallow crap, and he figures she's probably seen worst anyway and now, so has he.

He tastes the sour taste on his tongue and wishes he could go back into the bathroom, throw up some more, throw up the pain, but it doesn't work like that and he knows it.

But it still hurts.

She knows exactly what's going through his head and finally she decides that it can't go on anymore. He has to stop, now. The longer she'll let it go, the harder it'll be for him.

They say, people in general, that a guy in his shoes needs time. But that's not what he needs, it wasn't what she needed.

"Ya know, self-pity only gets one so far," she says suddenly, and his eyes blink open when he feels the mattress creak, and then, just like that, she's on the bed and above him, knees and hands resting next to him on both sides and his mind's spinning.

She smiles, but there's not a trace of pity or sympathy in her smile, and just when he's sure that she's going to kiss him, that she's truly fucked up in the head, she rolls over and drops her body on the bed next to his, laughing and he loves how husky her voice sounds.

"I'm Faith, by the way," she says then, turning her head to look at him and for a moment it feels so normal. Yeah, for a moment Dean forgets, forgets what's happened, and turns to look at her, wondering how old she is and what's the story behind that tattoo on her arm. His brain finally registers the tight, black tank-top she's wearing with dark shade of red glowing on her lips and if he were himself, he'd pull her close and taste that lipstick, because he wants to know if it tastes like cherries.

But he's not himself.

"Dean," he says, but without his trademark smirk, and she smiles softly, not saying anything else. Cheesy, hollow lines aren't her thing, and fuck, it'd be a lie anyway. It isn't particularly nice to meet him like this, so why bother saying so, you know?

Then she jumps off the bed, startling him slightly. He props his upper body from the bed, but only when she's already half-way through the door, he finds himself calling after her; "Faith, yo, where ya goin'?"

"Just a sec," she says already out the door, smirking to herself and not really answering his question, which doesn't bother him, because he can just tell it's her, the way she is. This Faith person lives by her own rules and doesn't answer to anyone and he feels like he's sharing a secret with her. Damn if it isn't just how he's lived his life, detached from everything real and meaningful.

When she comes back a moment later, she's holding a bottle of some cheap liquor; a bottle, which doesn't stay full for long. She comes back on the bed, but this time she's sitting next to his legs, back towards him and she takes the first gulp. Then, she reaches behind her, bending her back a little and offering the bottle to him, and he takes it without thanking. Faith doesn't mind, though; she's not one to go by such lines, either.

Through it all, he never, not once thinks she'll stay for the night, despite the fact it's her room, but she does.

And the following night, she's still there.


	3. razor's edge

**Title: RAZOR'S EDGE**  
**Series:** Trip My Wire  
**Part** 3 in series  
**Author:** charmingsyrai  
**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer // Supernatural // eventually Tru Calling  
**Characters:** Faith/Dean  
**Prompt:** #031 response  
**Word Count:** about 3878  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** language  
**Spoilers:** explains some happenings occuring during "Dead Man's Blood"  
**Summary:** "No," she says, "and if I were you I'd probably want the same thing, but the answer is still no. You'd just fuck it up."  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Neither Faith nor Dean belongs to me, although if I'd very much love if they did. Same goes for the world they live in that I've mixed up from the fandoms mentioned above. Since I'm not getting any money out of this, you really don't want to sue me, oki?

**Author's Note:** I was in the mood for some Dean/Faith lovin' so. I was having major issues at first with this one cause I kept thinking Dean is getting over Sam's death too damn fast, but then I realised, he's never gonna get over it. That's not something you get over with, ever. You deal with it and you can act as if you were ok, but you never get over it. That made everything much easier, realising Dean has his own unique way of dealing with all the crap, and so, here it is, third piece in the **Trip My Wire** series written for 50scenes at livejournal.

WHY the hell does my comp always restart itself when I'm writing, huh, HUH?! I'm starting to get really pissed off with this thing!

Oh, btw, it's written in first pov just cause I felt like doing so, but rest of the series will probably be written from third pov... ::shrugs:: Reviews make my day, so thank you )

**RAZOR'S EDGE**

She's stayed with me for nine days when she finally tells me she's taking off. Says she's not worried about me anymore, not now that I'm eating, drinking and showering again, and that she's got some things of her own to take care of. We're sitting in a bar, she on the other side of the round table with a beer on her hand, me on the other. We're here only because she insisted on me getting out of the motel room and if you've ever fought with a slayer, you know how damn difficult it is to beat one. I mean, verbally, sure, but when she goes threading to throw you over her shoulder and carry you, your male ego lifts its head pretty strongly to protect you from such fucked up humiliation. 

Something told me she would've gone and tried to go through with it if I'd given her the chance and I didn't wanna risk it.

So, yeah, I didn't wanna come here at first, but being here and drinking beer, it feels comforting in this very fucking weird way that I can't explain. I dunno, feels like nothing's changed. Like any minute now Sam will come from the bathroom, looking bored and annoyed, whining how he's not enjoying himself in this wretched hole; we should be at the motel, dude, faces glued to the damn laptop until we're half-blind, doing research on the newest fucker.

But I guess that's not going to happen, is it?

No, guess not. Funny thing, though, I haven't even tried calling Dad yet to tell him what's happened, it's like I keep wishing things will magically change. That he'll come back. So I don't call Dad, cause that makes it official. 'Sides, I don't wanna hear it, he doesn't have to tell me I fucked up bad, I know it already.

"Anyway, the room's paid for another two days, in case you wanna crash there for now. Didn't know if you have some place to go so..." Faith says awkwardly and with nothing else to do, brings the beer to her lips and drinks. 

Totally sidetracking here, but is it weird I love a girl who can drink? Not to mention eat. Cause I swear, she can do both. Makes me wonder what else she's good at. Right, back to the subject.

Honestly speaking, I didn't think she'd even stay for this long, and then it suddenly hits me. She's actually talking about leaving, which means I'm gonna be alone and so without thinking twice, I blurt it out.

"No, stay." 

Dude. Smooth. Wasn't gonna say that, you know, but not like I can take it back. I mean I could, but that'd be just fucking ridiculous.

"Dean, you know, you're gonna have to move on with your life eventually."

"Fuck you," I snap back harshly, 'cause this Dr. Phill bull really isn't what I need and I think we both know that. She shrugs, but not apologizing, never apologizing, and gulps down another mouthful of her beer gazing our surroundings somewhat nonchalantly. Although, if I stare enough, I could swear I can see an amused smirk playing with the corners of her mouth, but I'm not totally sure.

The thing is, with her, I never am.

I kinda like it that way.

Okay, while we're at it, let's get something straight. Just in case some asshole's reading me wrong here and to save ourselves from unwanted misunderstandings later on.

I'm _the_ Dean Winchester, a rogue demon hunter who's damn good at what he does and should be paid millions, only isn't, 'cause life's fucked up and that's that. And I'm not afraid of the dark, either, so it's not like I'm telling her to stay here 'cause I need protection. I'm no little girl, I can protect my own manly ass just fine. Being alone doesn't fucking scare me. I've been hunting alone every now and then even before I got laid for the first time, ok?

But I'm no liar either, not usually. Fine, maybe I am. So I lie to others, but I don't like lying to myself and well. I'd be lying if I said her presence doesn't chase away my demons. Not all, but some, and at the moment it's really the best one can do and right now, it's all I'm asking for. Yeah, I did notice how damn lame that one sounds. Big deal, get over it.

Just don't wanna be alone with the fucking demons, get it?

"Where'd you go anyway?"

Why the hell do I have to sound so clingy? This is embarrassing. Although, thinking back, she's pretty much seen me in my worst so when compared, this is nothing. But still, not good.

"I was working when I ran into you," she explains and I notice how her voice pitches a little - not exactly comfortable subject for me either, but so far she's been good with handling the issue. Instead of dancing around the subject in fear of hurting my feelings, she always speaks her mind, even when it's something I don't wanna hear. She doesn't force me to talk about it, but she talks about it whether I like it or not, and by doing so she sort of forces me to deal with it, too. No idle crap about how it's going to get better someday, how time heals all wounds and no wasted apologies.

Faith _never_ says she's sorry.

"Need to finish it," Faith continues, dragging my attention back to her.

Need to finish it? At first it doesn't ring a bell in my head, but then it comes to me. It was day number three when I asked her about it. You know, her being so fucking strong, which in my book isn't normal for a girl. She didn't wanna talk about it at first, said I wouldn't believe her anyway if she told, to which I cynically pointed out that it was a fucking vampire that killed my brother not so long ago. 

She looked at me and said, yeah, it was. But she hadn't been sure if I'd actually realized that. People tend to create explanations and excuses when they see stuff that doesn't fit their ordinary world, she said, and I agreed.

After which I told her I'm a demon hunter.

Through it all, she didn't even fidget or look uncomfortable when I mentioned my brother, but then when I said the word 'demon hunter', she laughed. Laughed to the point of water coming out of her eyes, saying it was the stupidest thing she's ever heard.

A demon hunter, _come on._

I still don't get what was so fucking funny, but I don't care, it was nice to hear her thick laugh. Made me feel normal for a second there and I think I cracked a small smile. But then, trying to tell her I really AM a demon hunter and explaining what happened to my mother and Sam's girl, how I lived my childhood, it kind of dropped my ass back to reality and trust me, that drop - it was damn cold.

"Oh yeah, the whole supernatural slayer thing," I say, leaning back on the chair, tasting the beer. It's not good, I don't know what cheap shit she ordered, I didn't listen, but I drink it anyway. Beer's never to be wasted, after all. I grimace slightly, trying to of course hide it, and put the thing down on the table, wiping my mouth clean. 

"Keep your voice down, idiot," Faith hisses at me shriveling, glancing around to see if anyone's close enough to hear us, which actually amuses me a bit. She says she's no amateur but things like that, they make me wonder.

There's no one around, of course, and when she comes to the same conclusion her eyes return on me - which, weirdly, is where I want them to be. The bar's practically deserted - if we don't count the bartender, two drunken guys singing, or blurring, bar songs to each other and the loudly playing jukebox, then it is.

"Hey, relax," I put in cockily, "we did this all the time with Sammy in bars all over the country and no one ever heard anything." The memory actually makes me smile and I'm guessing that's why she chooses not to fight with me on the issue. Nice to know she's that fond of my smile.

They usually are, aren't they? 

"Fine, whatever," she chucks, tossing her hair back. I've noticed it's something she always does when she feels cornered or threatened. I'm not talking about real danger in the sense of five-headed vampire gang rounding her up, but like... maybe I'm imagining it, but I've been getting the vibes she's not used to dealing with people and when they dare to disagree, she flares up or gets all defensive. People and emotions, they're what _corner_ her and she doesn't like it.

That's actually why it's surprising she didn't try and leave sooner.

"So," I drawl after a moment, placing my elbows on the table and leaning closer to her, "you going after that thing?" Maybe it's wrong of me to try use my charm on her, but if it works with most of the female population, I'm counting on it to work on her too. She can't seriously be thinking I'll let her go after _it_ alone, if that's the case.

She's maybe been hunting it for some time now, but I share a fucking history with this thing. Only, Faith doesn't know that.

I see her shaking her head and the look on her face, it's sad. Not pitying, but sad. And so is her voice when she speaks, "Dean..."

"You are," I rush in before she can even think of finishing that sentence, "You're going after that fucker."

Yeah, she was gonna go after that thing and she wasn't going to take me with her? What's wrong with this picture, huh? Faith, she's not stupid, of course she knows. She _knows_ I wanna be there, wanna kill that son of a bitch who sank its teeth into my own flesh and blood. 

Into Sam.

"Look, I know what you're gonna say and the answer is no," the slayer says firmly and slams the beer down on the table nearly spilling it.

"Oh? What was I gonna say?" I try, tracing my mug's handle with my fingers and with my game face on.

She snorts, rolling her eyes before they land on me with a knowing gleam.

"You want revenge," the way she says it, she makes it sound like the easiest thing on earth.

I want revenge? Ok, yeah, but come on. "Well, can you blame me?" I ask, serious, and she sighs. Guess we're on the same page here, then. _Good._

"No," she says after a minute of silence spent with me giving her looks and her ignoring them, "and if I were you I'd probably want the same thing, but the answer is still no. You'd just fuck it up."

Oh, wow. Harsh, woman. "Huh?" I bet the look on my face is as dumbfounded as my voice is. I mean, did she just imply I - Dean Winchester - would screw up a hunt? Never, dude.

We've definitely gotta have a little chat about this one, the manly kind, not the whiney girly type. "Are you saying I'm not good enough?" 

Ok, admittedly, that was a bit girly. Maybe she didn't notice it.

"No, I'm saying that despite your neat little facade you're pretty emotional guy."

Great. She noticed.

"You'd fuck it up by letting those emotions take control of you, and I'm not gonna watch you do it." 

That hurts. I don't know if it's because she dares to suggest I'd let my emotions take over or because she's saying I'm having a rigging facade on, but either way, I'm not liking this. 

Her words refuse to leave me and I'm trying my best to stay calm. It's not me who always let's his emotions go on a roll. Fuck, that's Sam, ok? Not me. But she doesn't know that, because she doesn't know me. She doesn't know it's the one fucking thing I always tried to teach Sam so that he wouldn't go and get himself killed, because he's having a fucking conscience dictating his every single move.

Look how that turned out, will you?

"Look, I don't mean to offend you, God knows I've done enough of that with others," she snorts sounding very much sarcastic in my ears, and I'm getting the feeling she saw a memory flash in front of her eyes just now, "but that's how it is."

Ok, think, Dean, think. There must be someway to change her mind, there's got to be something I can throw into the conversation here. There's always something, dude. Haven't you watched that movie? You know, the one with that cute chick always tying her hair up? Yeah, that movie. 

"I've met that vampire before," I say hastily. Well, I have!

She blinks, cocking her head to one side. Not looking so sure anymore, are we? No, cause now there's this insecure, suspicious look on her face as she eyes me trying to pick up a trace of lies. But it's not gonna happen since I'm not lying, so.

"What?" She snorts out in disbelief, as if she'd be amused and laughing at my sucky joke. 

"We were hunting down this one gun that we needed to waste the son of a bitch who killed mom, you know," I start explaining and her eyes, I swear they lit up sparkling. She's easy that way, always craving for action. "We followed the gun to a freakin' vampire nest, cause this one vampire gang had it and..." I shrug indifferently, knowing the less details I tell, the more she'll ask, "well, it was a fucking mess."

And so she does, "What happened?"

"Dad happened," I answer matter-of-factly, pleased by the fact I got her interested, "He killed Kate's mate."

Her eyebrow quirks into a question and she stops playing with her hair. She has this habit of twirling a lock of hair around her finger whenever she's concentrating on something and I find it weird somehow. That's something giggling little kids do, not Faith, not a slayer who never wants to give out her weaknessess. Being in deep thoughts and letting it show, well, that could get one seriously injured or worse.

"Kate?" She asks with a frown wrinkling her forehead.

"Oh, that's the bitch's name," I reply with a bad taste in my mouth. If I'd killed her that day, none of this would have happened. Sam would still be here. Why the fuck did we let them go? We could've come up with some way to kill them all, I'm sure of it. For fuck's sake, they were _just_ vampires.

Faith looks surprised, which actually surprises me in turn - after everything she's told me about her own life, what's so weird about the fact I happen to know _its_ name?

"You're on a name-basis with a vampire?" She asks sounding disgusted. If I wanted to be picky and analyze, I'd call her on for sounding jealous.

"Hey, no fair, you're too. You told me so."

Yeah, that's true, but still she keeps staring at me as if I was a nuttie person on the run from a cuckoos' nest. "But my vampire has a soul!" She protests.

Finally it's my turn to snort and roll my eyes. "And you say it like it'd mean something. That's no excuse, girl," I point out, grabbing my beer again, lifting it from the table, "'Sides, she's not my vampire. So, she kissed me once, yeah, but as I told her, I draw the line at necrophilia."

"She kissed you?" Faith cries out in surprise. Suppose she didn't see that one coming, then.

"What, you jealous?" I tease giving her _the_ look while drinking my beer again. I don't know, it just seems funny, the way she's reacting.

I guess my question hit a spot of some kind. The bored look creeps back onto her face and she looks away, before glancing at my direction again with irritation shining through. "Whatever. You're still not coming." 

Figured she'd say that. Looks like she's immune to my charm, which leaves me with the last resort.

"Oh come on, Faithie, you can't shut me out. I can help you." 

It's called begging with puppy-eyes. Dear God, if this doesn't work I'm gonna start screaming some ugly words here, in public, and it's possible I'll continue it tomorrow in some place with kids nearby. It won't be pretty. I warned you, remember that. 

Fuck, you _owe_ me this.

I was there at the cemetery. Where were _you?_

"I've no doubt," Faith replies staring into my eyes, obviously trying to make her point known, "but I work alone."

"Know what you mean, I did too," I say, "But trust me on this one, I can help. I have connections."

She sighs, growing fed up of the situation we're in. Well, I'm not really wanting this argument to go further and get violent, either, but what can you do. Usually I'd be eager to handle the issue with a few punch, but not this time, 'cause I know she'd kick me down like a ladybug, but there's no way in hell I'm giving up.

I won't, ever. _I_ owe this to Sammy.

"So do I," she speaks, annoyed, "I'm a freakin' _slayer_, Dean."

You're a slayer, yeah, great. Shit load of good that's done to your life. Have you even heard the stories you told me, Faith? Do you even remember the time before everything got turned upside-down, huh?

How many times you think she's gonna throw that slayer thing at my face before she gets it? Before she realizes that I don't care, I just don't fucking care. Be a slayer, good for you, best of luck with that crap and so on. Sure, go ahead and be the one to kill that fucker, whatever, but _God_, let me be there. Don't take it away from me. Let me see it.

I fucking _need_ to see it.

It's the only reason I let her force me up from the bed in the mornings. The only fucking reason.

Ok, let's think some more.

"This newly formed council you talked about isn't a fan of yours, you said it yourself." Fine, I'm being a jerk, using her own words against her, but man, she's really giving me no choice here, is she? "And they're in England, are they not?"

She looks down on her beer, on the table, the floor, anything but eyes. She's pursing her lips in the kind of pouty way that tells me she's getting closer and closer to the edge with every said word. "Yeah." 

Maybe I should worry. She could very easily throw the table between us aside and grab my throat. It would take her a less than a second to snap my neck in two, I guess. And Faith, she's the kind of girl who would do it.

Still, I'm not worried. During these nine days she hasn't hurt me in anyway.

My male ego, yes, but me? Physically? No.

Even the spider she found on bathroom's floor was saved. She showered first and then made me promise I wouldn't step on it either, since she'd spent a whole 15 minutes making sure the thing didn't get smashed. 

After I was done, she actually went back to check I kept my word.

I didn't, but I was smart enough to let the thing go down in the drain without leaving a mark on the floor and so she never noticed a thing. I told her the poor spider saw me and fled screaming.

Anyway.

"Yeah," I echo flatly, which is when her brown eyes suddenly arises again to meet mine.

She stares at me and I know, I just _know_ this is why she's the slayer. The strength, the power, the will, it's all in her eyes. She's a fighter, even her body shows that much, and she's going to _fight_ me on this, I know she is, till the bitter ending.

Too bad the feeling is mutual.

"I have other connections too-"

"Yeah, Angel and his gang, I know," I drawl in, making her annoyed look morph into something that's pretty close to fucking furious, I'd say, "Willow the lesbian witch and Xander, the one eyed ... whatever he is," I go on, ignoring the fact she looks about ready to smack me, "But they're not here, Faithie, I am."

Why can't she be a good girl and accept my offer?

"Stop calling me that, Winchester."

Never.

"Come on, I have to do this, I _need_ to do this." There's no traces of jokes in my voice, not anymore, but still Faith's not convinced.

She doesn't say anything.

You know, I'm starting to think there's not a fucking thing I can say to convince her. When her mind is set on something, then that's that. It's either her way or the highway, always.

But I need to do this, ok? She knows it as well as I do that it won't bring me peace, seeing that bitch die, but it'll do something. I'll feel better after it's over, I've got to.

I can't go on like this, feeling like this.

"One way or another I'm going after that thing," I state angrily, putting the beer down before I smash it against the wall, "and all I'm saying is it'd better for the both of us if we stay together." 

"You just wanna bed me, is all," she snaps staring me sternly and the funniest thing is, it looks like she's serious.

Not what I expected, I can tell that much. 

"No, I wanna kill that fucker... " I pause, thinking it over and continue with a slight, acknowledging nod, "Ok, possibly that too, yeah, but mostly I wanna waste that son of a bitch."

Right now, I'm thinking I could get a little offended. The fuck is she saying, really? Like having sex could possibly be the first thing on my mind right now?

Hell no.

Okay, fine, so it's close to the top, but it's not the first!

Sam. _Sam_ is. Don't you fucking get it already?

"Fine."

Wait, what? Did she just say something? "What?"

"I said _fine,_" she spits the last word like it'd be poison, "You can come."

I don't know what to say. Thanks? I do feel like giving a miniwave, but maybe better to forget about that one.

"Okay, cool."

She's still throwing fire darts at me with her eyes. "But I'm the one in control here, ok? Me, the slayer, the girl who can snap your neck with her little finger."

Yeah, somehow I figured she'd bring it up again.

"Are we clear on this one?" Faith demands and I think it best to just go with the flow, "Yeah, we're clear on this one," I say nodding, and finish my beer trying to hide my pleased grin.

"Good." 

"Okay."


	4. it's kind of complicated

**Title: IT'S KIND OF COMPLICATED**  
**Series:** Trip My Wire  
**Part** 4 in the series  
**Author:** charmingsyrai  
**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer // Supernatural // eventually Tru Calling  
**Characters:** Faith/Dean  
**Prompt:** #024 androgyny  
**Word Count:** about 2355  
**Rating:** R  
**Summary:** You remember how a week ago, she snagged Sam's knife out of the trunk before the hunt, and you threw a fit like a fucking teenager who's been bitchslapped by his promdate in the backseat of the Impala.  
**Warnings:** well, knowing Dean, Faith and me, what do you think? BAD language! Plus some slight violence so it's R just to be on the safe side, oki?  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Neither Faith nor Dean belongs to me, although if I'd very much love if they did. Same goes for the world they live in that I've mixed up from the fandoms mentioned above. Since I'm not getting any money out of this, you really don't want to sue me, oki?  
**Prompt Table** here 

**Author's Note:** I know my use of italics can confuse you sometimes, it happens, but there's actually a pattern they follow, you just might not realise it. It's just my thing, ok?

Ok, so some of you may have noticed that the first fic "Soldier Through This" implied that the vampires in this crossover world are more like the ones we've seen in BtVS than the ones we've seen in SPN. In the ep "Dead Man's Blood" we clearly see Kate does not in fact have yellow eyes and lumpy face like suggested in the first fic, BUT, I beg you to wait and see, and the changes will be explained to you. Eventually... if not earlier. BOO-YAH, lovers. 

Random shit? I know, don't care, shut up. Had a bad, bad, bad day and I just need to do something, get this out, write, and be done with it. I'll try and be better with the next part, I swear, but for now... this is how the chapter came out and I dunno why

Thank you for the feedback, guys! It makes me smile. And to answer RENNI's question "Dean/Faith action... Will we see that later?" ... Well, dude, it's my ficcie, what do you think? ; Heh.

... Actually if things go as planned, smut will follow this one. If things don't go as planned, then it was false hope, I guess. BAD ME. Anyway, since doesn't allow real smut here, you might want to check my profile and head to either the alternative space or nuns with pens because there, I assure you, you shall find the raw, dirty vesion, mwuahahah

**IT'S KIND OF COMPLICATED**

She looks sort of nice, _appealing,_ when she's standing in front of the kitchen sink, sleeves rolled, washing a pile of underwear (hers, because she refuses to do yours. No fucking way, dude, she says), and singing some old Metallica song she's heard you play like a thousands of times, because it calms you down. And then you go and wonder if she's humming the song because it calms her down too, something she's picked up from you along the ride, or if she's doing it because she knows how it'll affect you. Clever girl. 

That's probably why she's using the kitchen sink instead of the bathtub.

Then you smile, biting your bottom lip to keep the amused chuckle in. Yeah, another question popping into your head is if she has any fucking clue _how_ she keeps dancing to the music, moving, swinging her ass from one side to another and you just look at her, utterly fascinated and confused. Doesn't she feel your eyes on her backside, burning holes into her clothes, skin?

You tear your eyes away, straighten your back while turning to look at the guns again, the ones you've laid all over the bed around you and concentrate on cleaning them, one by one. Faith doesn't really do guns though she owns a couple, you know all this, but you clean all of them anyway, even hers, simply out of habit. Someone's got to take care of the babies. 

But it only takes five minutes before your eyes seek her out again. It's fucking unbelievable, everything about her is. You find yourself thinking it's not possible, that this girl, it can't be the same one you saw yesterday night, whooping some vampire ass, as usual.

Faith, you've noticed she's more into knives and old-fashioned face-punching and it's fine, cause you two kind of even things out. It's all about balance.

You remember how a week ago, she snagged Sam's knife out of the trunk before the hunt, and you threw a fit like a fucking teenager who's been bitchslapped by his promdate in the backseat of the Impala. You wrenched the damn thing out of her hands, yelling stuff you can't even remember anymore (or don't want to, which is basically the same thing anyway) and she stood there, staring at you with raised eyebrows, _what the hell, Dean, you mental_, before she finally caught up with things. She lifted one shoulder to a shrug saying, fine, whatever, and turned to the trunk again. After a few minutes, she pulled out another knife, yours, and asked if it was Sam's too. You said _no, go ahead_, and she nodded with a face showing no emotions at all, slammed the trunk closed and said nothing else. 

Later that night, after the hunt, you went back to that moment and started asking yourself why the hell she didn't just punch you in the face, like she usually does and be done with it. It's been over a month now, you two together, sharing crappy motel rooms and squatting houses, and you've fought like hell, about everything, but you still haven't killed each other.

A fucking month, you repeat in your head, it feels longer, so much longer. 'Sides, it's probably one of the longest relationships you've ever had, not that this thing with you guys could be defined as... you know... _relationship._

It's kind of complicated, ok? Everything is.

You're not sure, but if someone asked (and if Faith was there to hear your answer, peering over your shoulder), you'd say it's an equal partnership where you both know your places.

But, really, you don't. In fact, you don't have a fucking clue.

The day Faith told you she's taking off, it changed everything and you, you're not sure how to deal with this new crap, this feeling of needing someone around. With Sam it was always so fucking easy, the guy was your baby brother for crying out loud, it was natural to want him around... and you know, with him, all you had to do was throw a witty comment or punch him in the nose depending on the occasion and things sorted themselves out.

But with Faith?

Nothing's simple with Faith.

She loves to punch you whenever you say something she doesn't like, but you've been told not to hit girls, for fuck's sake, and you can't get past that.

She doesn't talk about her own past that much, just hides behind these thick, scary-feeling, brick walls no one can kick down, not even you. But it doesn't matter, you haven't really even tried, 'cause you're not stupid and so you've been doing some research on your own through Ellen's contacts. It gives you something to do and less time to think about the mistakes you did with Sam, so, all good.

You found out the network you discovered not so long ago, when Dad took you there with Sam just before the _graveyard incident_, it's fucking huge. Seriously, beyond anything you could've imagined. Everyone knows someone who knows something about, you know, something. It bothers you, the fact Dad never told you and Sam about the slayers, 'cause if Ellen knew about them, then Dad must have known too, right? But then, Dad, he seemed to believe the vampires were nearly an erased species. Not so much, as you've noticed. 

This one guy you found after dozens of wasted phone calls, he told you about Sunnydale's famous slayers. Told you all about Faith Lehane's dark phase and you were shocked at first, but then, thinking it further, it made sense. After that, you always look at her differently - now you know she's not always been with the good guys and it tickles you a little.

She's not innocent. 

You're not the only one who's gone through with all the seven deadly sins and when you go to Hell, she'll be right there with you.

Somehow, don't ask how, you find it comforting.

The fact she's tough.

Oh yeah, she totally is. You were sitting on a cold gravestone, both hands holding your Beretta 92' against your hurting thigh, _those fuckers kick really hard, damnit,_ and thinking random shit like; _fuck, I should've brought the Eagle._ Yeah, you like that one better, 'cause ladies always swoon when they see it and. It's probably got something to do with the fact Lara Croft, the game version, owns a similar gun and they can relate. Girls, you know. It's a chick-thing, definitely.

So yeah, you were sitting there cursing the fact your balls are gonna fucking freeze soon, _Faith, come on, stop playing and kill the bastard,_ and then your train of thoughts paused for a slight second when you heard a throaty hiss, followed by the sound of fist connecting someone's face. Twice. Then a deep snarl and someone fell down on the ground, growling and you looked up from the gun.

You love watching her fight, you do, but you're actually a little bored now, cause christ, vampires are getting kind of old. They're the only things you've seen for the passed two weeks; you've been following the tracks, trying to hunt down that one bitch, _I'm gonna dust you, you cocksucker_, but so far no luck. At first killing the things, just killing in general, was helping you deal with the pain, but ultimately, you realize it's not good enough.

You want that one fucker dead and there's no fucking replacement for that kill. You sighed and looked at the scene in front of you, hoping she'd agree to swing by the bar to grab a beer afterwards and play a round of darts. Only, with knives; makes the game a little bit more interesting.

"You bitch," a high-pitched voice spat out and you couldn't help but chuckle, shaking your head, "you broke my nose, you fucking--"

Your attention turned back to the lady vampire who was lying on the ground, the heel of Faith's army boot pressed against her chest, pinning her down, breaking her bones.

Then Faith chuckled and said, you shouldn't say such things to a slayer, but when the vampire's face was nothing but question marks, she turned to look at you, angry, putting even more weight on the being causing it to whimper.

"What the fuck's wrong with these things?" she asked, glaring, as if it was your fucking fault the vampires around the area doesn't know what the hell slayers are. Come on, even you didn't know until she showed up, telling you stories about Sunnydale and the famous slayer fighting evil.

Yeah, well, if you're hoping to visit the place one of these days, don't bother, Faith said when she told you about the town, _we sort of left a hole and nothing but, so._

And just when you thought something's going right, at least there's no Hellmouth anymore, then, then she went and told you about the other Hellmouth in Cleveland and you cursed, _holy fucking hell, as if one isn't enough_, and she shook her head with a cynical laughter rolling out, saying, never is, Winchester, never is.

It made you think. Seriously, it did.

You told her that the last time you met Kate, her eyes didn't change color and her face didn't morph into _fugly_ and Faith couldn't answer you, couldn't tell what the hell's going on with the world. Said she needed to get a hold of some guy named Giles cause honestly, she's never, not once seen a vamp whose face _didn't_ turn.

When you mentioned that the vampires you've encountered aren't afraid of the sun either and don't run to their mommies at the sight of cross, her face fell. She couldn't believe it, it's not possible, _what the fuck are you on, Dean._

The vampire she was pinning down, well, its face was completely normal.

Universe is screwing us over. Big time.

You looked in silence how she suddenly kicked the vampire with her boot, again and again and again, until there was nothing but a bloody hole where its throat used to be. Not as neat and clean as cutting the head of, yeah, but as efficient nevertheless. The head fell apart and she kicked it further, looking down, waiting for the thing to turn into ashes like the ones she's used to dealing with, but nothing happened.

Still, even with her sun-resistance and stuff, this particular vampire, she wasn't even a real challenge to her, I mean fuck, even you could've taken her down with your little finger.

Yeah, and just like that, you ignore the reason you're sitting on that cold gravestone in the first place, why there's grass stains all over your jeans, why the fabric against your ass is stained with mud and dirt, why your thigh hurts...

Fine, maybe it did manage to kick you down where it hurts the most, but it was one time thing and you'll never ever let any creature do it again, period. You're gonna buy a fucking armor, or whatever.

"It was so fucking stupid of you to bring a gun, Dean," Faith snorted, bitchy, after she was done with the bloody pile - as in stared at it long enough to accept the simple fact it was not gonna turn into dust, not now, not ever. "So fucking useless."

"Yeah, well, I like it," you said and she snorted again, walking over to you with head cocked to one side and you just know she's gonna do something stupid, something that will hurt like hell, cause she's got that look in her eyes.

The one she always has after a slay.

It makes your heart beat a little bit faster. 

"Didn't do much good to you, now did it?" She drawls, hand on your thighs, squeezing the bruised areas, knowing damn well it hurts.

You get up pushing her back, wincing in pain as you do, _aww, fuck, I'm never gonna have babies, man_, but you straighten your back to your full-height despite the pain, just to be taller than her. Yeah, you know it's lame and she sees through you, always, but still it's the only thing you've got and she doesn't. Your fucking height. How sad can you get?

You don't want to answer that.

"You never know," you said with a casual shrug and started to walk towards the dusty Impala, wanting to get the fuck away from that place, "Might have ran into something else so better be safe than sorry." 

She only rolled her eyes and-

"We gonna go hunting today?" Faith asks drawing you back to reality, and you drop the gun you're cleaning. You try to catch it in haste, but it's no good and it falls down, hitting your thigh and you want to yelp in pain, but you don't. Wouldn't be very manly.

But, fuck, the tears of pain still bubble somewhere behind your eyelids. 

Gritting your teeth, you lift your gaze, focusing on her again. "What was that?"

Ah, she's finished with her clothes, it would seem, cause now she's turned around, leaning against the counter and stares at you curiously. Then she suddenly moves, pulls herself away from the counter, stretching her arms, and you almost stop breathing; you can see the way the tight shirt clings onto her every curve so fucking clearly that the pain from your thigh travels upwards.

You try to look into her eyes, but man, it's not that easy.

"Asked if we're gonna go hunting," she says then, gathering the wet clothes into her hands and disappears into the bathroom where the clothes-line is, above the bathtub.

"Tonight?" you call after her with raised voice, not telling her you'd much rather hunt something other than vampires for a change, "Yeah, sure." You don't really get it, but for some reason, she seems to love hunting vampires more than anything else. You simply figure it's in the blood, that's all.

"Ok, good," she yells back with pleased voice, "I'm gonna take a lil nap before we head out, okay? Wake me up in half."

**A/N:** Reviews will make my day! And kick my muse, too.


	5. inside your head

**Title: INSIDE YOUR HEAD**

**Series:** Trip My Wire

Part 5 in the series

**Author:** syrai

**Fandom:** Buffy the Vampire Slayer // Supernatural // eventually Tru Calling

**Characters:** Faith/Dean

**Prompt:** #010 writer's choice

**Word Count:** about 1100

**Rating:** PG-13 (should it be different, let me know)

**Summary**: Faith's not sure what's going on, but this little voice in the back of her mind, it keeps calming her down with reassuring tone, keeps whispering, _who really gives a fuck, huh_, and like always, she listens...

**Warnings:** Bad language

**Disclaimer:** Dean and Faith? Not mine. What you haven't seen in TV? Mine.

**Author's Note:** Thank you for the reviews! I'm glad you people have liked the fic so far! If you're wondering why I've been favoring Dean's pov, it's because I already have to deal with Faith quite a bit in my Envenom series (BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER) and I really don't want to end up repeating myself... so that's probably why. But I shall try my best and if you by any chance, happen to be a reader of both ficcies, be sure to tell me how you feel about the issue :)

Er, no real smut. I promise, coming soon! I'm almost done with the next part so it shouldn't take that long. Er, hopefully.

Oh and again, my word is fucked so the thing hasn't been spell-checked! I'm sorry!

This is just a lil weird filler promptie, I suppose and I know it's weird, just read it through and be done with it, heh.

I'm really slow with updating here in so you might want to check this thing out at my livejournal (link should be in my profile) - plus, since this place don't allow NC-17 I'm probably gonna post those parts only into LJ anyhow.

**INSIDE YOUR HEAD**

Faith's not sure what's going on, but this little voice in the back of her mind, it keeps calming her down with reassuring tone, keeps whispering, _who really gives a fuck, huh_, and like always, she listens because in the middle of all the familiar darkness and destruction, pain and insecurity, that little voice is the one thing she's always got. The thing she's relied on.

In the end that's always been the main issue, hasn't it? She agrees hesitantly, _maybe it has_; it's so easy to put the blame on her instincts, drain the guilt from her own shoulders. Yeah, just put it on nature, baby. It isn't her fault she was born into this, into being a slayer. She didn't ask for this.

Doesn't mean she don't want it, though.

It's bittersweet in a way, isn't it? Within her locked mind, she snorts mockingly and throws her head back in laughter. The laugh is the usual deep, raspy laughter that makes her frame oscillate until the air in her lungs is finally used and she has no choice but to gasp for breath. Then, the only sound she recognizes is the beat of her heart inside her body, inside her brain. It feels weird; the static noise around her and the beat.

Loud and clear, strong and vivid, inside, inside her head, you know? Like it wasn't hers... it's not, it's not yours! It's Dean's.

Even when everything's beyond chaotic; when nothing makes sense, somehow this always does. The instincts, they're the Slayer's most powerful gift, the Slayer's ultimate curse. _It depends how you take it, B._

Only... right now? Everything's sort of weird, hazy. And those instincts she's always counted on, they seem to be fucked up, they're not telling her what's going on. _Holy shit._

Faith only has these foggy, somehow distant memories of how this happened, how she ended up here with his body pressed firmly against hers.

The creaking bed, the dim bedroom. She was taking a nap, right? Right. She knows it's dark _and dark means night, Dean, we have to go, _and she pushes him away roughly, sitting up straight trying to ignore the stuffy feeling inside her head. It's never stuffy inside her head, for fuck's sake, not even when she's slept. Something's wrong, _man, I gotta take a shower and-_

This is the part she's not sure about, but she thinks... she thinks he pushed her back down, kissed her and said, _no, not yet, just little while longer... _She wanted to say something, but couldn't and it doesn't matter anymore, anyway.

Dean's whole body weight is suddenly on top of her, his hard hands underneath her shirt and Dean - he's not asking for permission. Faith's had all sorts of thing with all sorts of guys, but never has her mind been this misty without alcohol playing its own part. Hell, not even then.

She smiles.

His hand goes around her neck, bringing her head up and while her mind tells her to kick his ass, punch him, anything, her body doesn't comply. His mouth captures hers roughly, no gentleness whatsoever to be felt and it's ok; she figures he knows how she likes it. His teeth are scraping her lips, biting the corners of her mouth, but she's hardly noticing it... hers are pretty much doing the same thing anyway, when she's not trying to breathe.

Isn't he supposed to be the weaker one, huh? He's supposed to be gasping for air, not her!

The fingers in the back of her skull curl around the dark, thick locks pulling her head backwards and then his tongue is there, on her throat and it feels so good, so new that she just wants to laugh.

He moves so fast that she's puzzled for a moment - _you're really slow today, Faith, aren't ya?_ - and in a blink of an eye her shirt is dragged over her heard, and then the hand appears, invading her jeans, pushing aside the silky fabric - _hey, wait a minute, you didn't wear silk today, did you?_ - and she moans into his mouth...

"Ouch, Faithie, for fuck's sake!" Your eyes blink open and the needy moan on your lips dies. You try to focus on the moment, but your eyes don't want to cooperate and it takes longer than you appreciate for them to adjust into the light. When they do, you realise you're sitting on the bed with fingers curled around the collar of Dean's beloved leather jacket. And Dean? He's staring at you, his fingers wrapped around yours... and the look on his face isn't a happy one. That's the first thing your brain actually registers. Dean. Not happy. Bad.

... What the hell?

You frown and glance at your hands again. Ooooh, gotcha.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry," you sigh, opening your fingers letting the fabric slide off and push him back - just in case. You really didn't mean to pull him so close, honestly, but it was his own fault for sneaking up on you like that while you were asleep. At least you didn't punch him this time, right?

"You told me to wake you up in half," Dean points out as if reading your mind and at first you don't understand what he means. You told him to wake you up? Huh, why the fuck would you do that? This is when your brain reaches its gas tanks and suddenly decides to catch up with you. You were sleeping because... Oh, _right _- patrolling. Or, _hunt_ as you've come to call them. Yeah, well, it's what Dean calls them anyway and you've sorta picked it up too, you guess. You're not sure when or why, though, it just happened along the way.

You look up, still sitting on the bed and watch him straighten his back as well as his jacket. His hazel eyes are on you, questioning, unsure. "So, we going or what?"

You nod fighting the humiliation threatening to turn your cheeks red - Jesus, you never blush, _what the hell?_ And so you scramble to your feet in haste, eyes adverting his and mumble, "I gotta take a shower."

You disappear into the bathroom before he can say another word; the last thing you need is him asking stupid questions about the moans you're pretty sure escaped your lips at some point during the damn dream. The door slams shut, the lock clicks and you, you collapse against the closed door, drawing in a breath.

_Seriously, Faith, what the fuck?_


End file.
